


At the End of Peaceful Days

by Dvsharpie



Series: The Chronicles of El [5]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Character, Bittersweet, Complete, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Novella, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Pining, Pre-Canon, Romance, Series, Sex, Smut, shameless self insert, who am I kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-10-31 09:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dvsharpie/pseuds/Dvsharpie
Summary: Since leaving behind Lucio and dangerous mercenary work, Eleanor has lead a simple life alongside her lover, Asra. When the plague breaks out in Vesuvia, she must do her part to find a cure. Secrets of the past are revealed. Lucio confronts ancient feelings. Asra riles against fate itself. Can enough ever be sacrificed to reconcile the violence of the past?Pre-Prologue. Mainly Asra/Apprentice. No prior reading is needed. Now complete with sequels upcoming.





	1. A Grim Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by. Though not necessary, this work will probably be better understood if you read "All's Fair" first.
> 
> This is mainly an apprentice/Asra story. Muriel and Lucio are important romantic interests, but neither is fully pursued in this story. If you want more of them, please see my other works.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentice returns home, where Asra is waiting for her.

It was a late summer night, and Asra was waiting for his partner to return. They had been together for five years now, living in their little magic shop. While Asra ran the shop, his lover took many trips across the continents. She always insisted that someone needed her help, and it was always a matter of life or death. Asra could accept that she needed to follow her own path, but he still missed her when she was gone. 

He paced the front of the shop, out of things to do. He’d swept, taken inventory, done laundry, rearranged the storefront twice, and whatever other little task he could come up with. He even exhausted all of his magic energy over a tiny batch of special ink for her tattoos. He was rarely so anxious to see Eleanor, but today was different. He had important news. Life changing news. He could only hope that Eleanor would accept it. 

A festering plague was running its course through Vesuvia. Every day, the dying filled the streets, thin and red-eyed, begging for food or water or help. Many interesting magicians and doctors had passed through town, answering the count’s call, but the few that remained had yet to realize a cure. Some had died of the plague themselves. 

Many people tried to ask Asra for help, desperate for some magical remedy, but Asra could only help them pass peacefully with some sleeping-drought or pain reliever. He kept the shop as sanitary as he could, but knew it was only a matter of time before the dying took him with them.

The entry bell chimed. “I’m home,” Eleanor said, her accent soft and warm. She and Asra were the same height, though Eleanor was easily heavier. She was dressed all in black and grey, her usual shades, and carried her signature staff. The only color she dawned was a modest garnet, hanging from her neck on a golden chain. 

“How was Nopal?” Asra asked. 

“Dry, like always,” she said. “You would probably be more useful to them than me.”

Asra was jack-of-all-trades with an affinity for water magic. Eleanor, though much more powerful, struggled to learn magic outside of pyromancy. They were balanced in that way.

“Maybe I’ll join you next time,” Asra said, tarot deck in hand. “Let me do a reading for you.”

“Oh Asra, you know how I feel about the arcana.”

“I know you don’t put much faith in it, but please, just this once,” he said. “It’s what I’m best at, and you’ve never let me give you one.”

“I’ve seen you do a lot of readings.”

“Come on El, please?”

Eleanor put a hand on her hip, considering the young man before her. His white brows furrowed over violet eyes, which shined with an unbeatable sense of wonder. They were a child’s eyes, whereas Eleanor’s were those of an old woman. He had offered her a reading many times, and she always declined, hesitant even to touch the deck. She dismissed them as cheap party tricks. Asra always secretly wondered if she was just bitter because she wasn't any good with the cards. 

He thought she would tell him no, but perhaps Eleanor sensed that he needed this. She went into the back room, pulled up a chair for herself, and sat, arms crossed. “Alright Asra. Do your worst.”

Asra took a breath and sat across from her. He knew Eleanor kept things from him. He knew she was much older than she looked, and had experienced highs and lows that he couldn’t fathom. He wasn’t sure what the deck would tell him about her, or how much it could tell. He had tried to ask them about Eleanor before, and while they seemed to know her, they refused to discuss her.

He set the deck on the table before Eleanor, face down, and met her steel gaze. “Cut the deck,” he said.

Eleanor reached for the cards carefully, like she was scared they would hurt her. She hesitated, tense. Asra half expected her to change her mind, but then she made the deck into four piles. An interesting technique.

Asra gathered the cards again, shuffled them, and placed them back on the table in three piles. Eleanor was watching him, rather than the cards. Her expression was unreadable. “First your past,” he said, flipping a card from the first pile. 

Eleanor observed the shadowy stag, reversed, crying out as if in pain. “What does the tower tell you?” she asked.

Asra let his hand hover over the card, and closed his eyes. He could feel the tower, but couldn’t hear it’s exact words. “Your past is rife with violence and destruction, most of your own doing,” Asra said. Asra strained, trying to listen, but there was only a fire. 

Eleanor tensed. Whatever the tower had to say, she seemed quite concerned about it.

“There’s more but… he won’t… or he can’t tell me,” Asra said. “The violence is so strong, it consumes everything else about your past. ”

Eleanor relaxed. Asra noticed the change in her aura. “That’s not good, El,” he warned. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever did, you dwelt on it for most of your life.”

“What’s the next one,” Eleanor urged.

Asra glanced at her, sighed, then focused on the center pile. “Your present,” he said, then flipped the card. “Death, reversed.”

“This is really grim so far,” Eleanor said.

Asra closed his eyes. He could hear this arcana more clearly, but the past still clouded whatever death had to say. Nevertheless, he could still divine enough. “You know how I just said you were dwelling on this.. violence?”

“Does death say so, too?”

Asra nodded. “The violence of the past is so powerful that it bleeds in your other readings, as it bleeds into your present. You’ve stagnated, but not as most people do. You remain unchanging, against the laws of nature. You cannot move forward, in body or mind.”

“You already knew that,” Eleanor said.

“I think I did,” Asra said. “You were older than me when me met. Now you’re the same age as me. Younger, even. Something to do with your past?”

Eleanor nodded at the deck. She was frustratingly emotionless. “Read the next card. You’ll get an answer.”

Asra ran an irritated hand through his fluffy hair. It seemed like Eleanor hadn't been completely honest about her feelings towards the cards. She didn't really think they were just a cheap trick.

Asra turned the final card. The figure was an upright elephant, noble and elegant.

“Judgment,” Eleanor said. As she told Asra before, she had seen the figure many times in her dreams, usually alongside pig-faced justice.

Asra noticed that her aura changed again. She seemed happy to see the card, like she already knew what it had to say. Asra listened to the card, and it’s voice was the clearest yet.

“The redemption you seek will come to you,” Asra said. “But not when you think, or how you think. You’ll eventually find peace.”

He felt Eleanor’s longing for rest, so intensely that he nearly cried. He understood, now, why she wasn't aging. She’d committed some crime, and was doomed to immortality until she paid her tolls. That was why she lived the way she did, hands open to anyone who needed them.

“I can only die if it’s in service of others,” Eleanor told him. “It’s been over a decade, now. I’ve already lost relationships to time.”

“What did you do?” He asked her, taking her hands.

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. I don’t want the way you see me to change.”

He touched her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his soft touch. “I love you, El. Whatever happened is in the past.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, just turning to kiss his coppery hand. She still didn't seem to agree. 

“You cursed yourself, didn’t you?”

“No, but I did ask for it,” she said. “I asked justice for redemption, and this is the deal they offered.”

Asra nodded. “I understand.”

“Why tonight, Asra? Why did you need to do a reading tonight?”

He thought of the tickets he’d bought, for a ship headed to Prakra, and figured it would be better to tell her later. He wanted to flee the plague, for both of their sake's. The ship didn’t leave for a month, and he was an excellent liar. “I just thought it was time,” he said. 

“I think you were right,” she told him. “I learned that an old friend of mine is working on a cure in the palace, and I’m going to help him.”

Asra’s heart sank. If that was her plan, how could he convince her to flee with him?

“When are you leaving?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” she replied. “You can come with, if you want. I think you and my friend would get along really well. And I could use some support dealing with… an old flame.”

Asra raised his eyebrows. “How old of a flame?”

“Old enough to be your father.”

Asra’s face was pensive, then confused, then disgusted. “El, not... _him_.”

She nodded. “Yes. Him.”


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor and Asra scope out the palace. They run into an old friend.

It was late in the morning when Eleanor and Asra approached the gates. Eleanor held her head high, staff in hand, and took long, confident strides. She was as intimidating as ever to most, but Asra noticed how her eyes were a little more watchful than usual, and her grip on the staff was especially tight. She was nervous.

Eleanor told the guards their business, and they were directed to a sitting room. They sat beside each other in a firm loveseat, hands linked together in Asra’s lap. They said nothing, content to sit together quietly. Eleanor crossed and uncrossed her legs. Asra drummed his fingers on the loveseat’s arm. They waited.

The windowed doors opened, and a sinister figure entered the room. They were tall, very thin, and had greenish skin. They wore a breath mask over their narrow face, drawing even more attention to their large, red eyes. They were dressed like they were about to perform a surgery.

The lovers rose, hands still linked. “Eleanor and Asra, I presume,” the strange person said. 

“And you are?” Eleanor asked. She and Asra bumped shoulders, trying to step in front of each other at the same time. 

“Questor Valdemar,” the person replied, “head physician. Which of you is applying?”

“I am,” Eleanor said. She pushed up her sleeves, revealing the intricate runes tattooed on her arms.

Valdemar stood right in front of Eleanor, peering down at her. Eleanor, fearless, did not waver under their crimson gaze. They smelled like death; Eleanor was familiar with the stench. “Ah, how interesting,” Valdemar said. “Come along then, I’ll show you our laboratory. You’re welcome to join, magician.”

Valdemar turned and left the room, expecting them to follow. The couple exchanged a glance, then went after them, still holding hands. 

The Questor led them deep into the palace, down into the dungeons, until they came to an iron lift. They beckoned the magicians inside, and all three descended. In the cramped space, Eleanor grew claustrophobic. Asra squeezed her hand silently, offering some comfort. The Elevator came to a stop.

They stepped into a torch-lit hallway, where the Questor passed them protective aprons and masks. “You can wait out here, if you want,” Eleanor told Asra.

“I’ll go anywhere you go,” Asra replied. She gave him a tiny smile as he fixed her mask and tucked her cropped hair behind her ears.

“This way,” Valdemar directed, oddly chirper. They removed the mask from their face, and breathed in deeply. The magicians were disgusted. 

“Here we are,” Valdemar said, pushing open one last iron gate. The room they entered was large, centered around an autopsy table. There were jars full of leeches and red beetles and other, stranger things. Asra turned away from the flayed corpse on the table. Eleanor was, to his shock, undisturbed 

“These are the offices,” Valdemar went on. “Should you need one, this one here is recently vacant.”

Eleanor was focused on another office, labeled with the name she was looking for: Dr. Devorak. “Ah, Dr. Devorak’s office,” Valdemar said. “He’s convinced that the disease is bloodborne, so he is particularly obsessed with leeches.”

“And what do you do, Questor?” Asra asked. He was a better conversationalist than El. 

Valdemar pat the autopsied corpse proudly. “I study the effects of the disease. It’s most fascinating, don’t you think?”

“Not my cup of tea,” Asra replied. 

“Eleanor, what is it you specialize in?” The Questor asked.

“A little of everything,” Eleanor replied. “Fire is my specialty.”

“Interesting,” they said, “And how do you plan to apply that?”

“Like I said, I’m good a little of everything. I figured I’d help develop medicines.”

“I suppose that is necessary. It’s such a shame to cover up the symptoms, change the natural progression.”

“Questor, we’d like to see the rest of the palace, if you don’t mind,” Asra said.

“Not at all! You know the way out.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said, placing a hand on Asra’s back. They left the dungeon in a hurry.

“Do you really want to spend time in there?” Asra asked as they returned to the main floor.

“No, but I feel like I’m supposed to.”

“What if you get sick?”

“Well Asra, that’s the thing,” Eleanor replied, staring at something down the hall.“I…”

“What is it?” He followed her gaze, and saw a tall man, in his early thirties, with dashing auburn hair. He was staring at them- no, he was staring at Eleanor.

“Ellie?” the man asked, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“Hey Doc,” Eleanor replied. She radiated a rare warmth. Her eyes twinkled.

“Aw, Ellie!” Julian exclaimed, sweeping Eleanor into his arms. She pushed her face into his shoulder, returned his embrace tightly. They swayed in place. Julian sniffled.

“Don’t cry, Jules,” she said, voice muffled in his jacket.

He released her and wiped his eyes fiercely. “Of course not.”

Eleanor indicated his black coat, and his dramatic cape. “This is a sophisticated look.”

“Well, you know, I’m not nineteen anymore, have to dress the part.”

“Certainly.”

He grasped her shoulders, still overjoyed at the sight of her. “You look really good, Ellie. You look healthy.”

“I took your advice.”

“I’m glad. Wow, you’re all inked up.”

“You look someone punched you in the face.”

Julian laughed and rubbed his chin. “Never one to mince words. I don’t sleep much these days, I’m afraid.”

He looked closer at Eleanor. Asra knew that he was noticing Eleanor’s apparent age; even her voice was still that of a young woman. “You’ve aged quite well,” Julian said, his tone curious. 

Asra cleared his throat. “Oh Asra, this is Julian,” Eleanor said. “He’s a really old friend, from my mercenary days. Julian, this is my partner, Asra.”

The men shook hands. “Well done my dear, he’s a looker.” He winked at Asra.

“El talked about you a lot, she never told me you were so handsome,” Asra said. Julian blushed.

“Boys, please.” 

“Only playing,” Asra said. Eleanor put a jealous hand on his back.

“But Ellie, what brought you here?”

“I heard you were working here, so I figured I should do my part, too.”

“We have a lot to catch up on.”

“We really do.”

“Have you run into Lucio yet?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I’m hoping to avoid it as long as possible.”

“It’ll be ugly.”

“He told you what happened?”

Julian crossed his arms. “He did, and I won’t lie, that was cold, even for you.”

Eleanor rubbed the back of her neck. “I know. I’m not that person anymore.”

Asra was the obvious third wheel as the ex-mercenaries kept talking. He knew even less about Eleanor than he realized, and she was much older than he had realized, too. Although, if anyone could be flexible, it was Asra. He loved Eleanor, and would do his best to support her. 

“You know, Lucio is coming back from a meeting soon. You should go now if you want to avoid him.”

“Is he doing okay?” Eleanor asked.

Julian gestured broadly to the shimmering white walls around him. “What do you think?”

“Obviously,” Eleanor replied, “but what is he like?”

“He’s changed a little bit too, but he’s still Lucio. Still setting heads on fire.”

Eleanor laughed. “That sounds like him.” She caught the appalled look on Asra’s face. “Sorry, that’s not a good thing.”

Julian raised his eyebrow. “You have changed.”

“Anyways,” Eleanor went on, “we should get back to our shop.” Asra nodded in agreement.

“Of course, of course,” Julian said, giving Eleanor another hug. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will, I promise.”

Asra and Eleanor left the palace, in perfect step with each other. Their shoulders brushed as they walked.

“You know I have to stay at the palace, as long as I’m working there.”

“I know. You don’t want to risk getting me sick.” He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood.

“You know me so well.”

“I’d hope so, it’s been five years.”

“Do you know how much I appreciate you? I mean it.”

Asra’s eyes were on the pavement, but they crinkled pleasantly as Eleanor spoke. “I know,” he said again. “We’ll just have to make sure tonight’s a good night.”

He looked up and recognized the hunger in her dark eyes. She wore a wicked half-smile. She might’ve been different in the past, but this was now. He loved the person he’d met in the woods, when he was new to being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Leave me kudos or a comment. Thanks for reading!


	3. Old Scars and New Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra confides in an old friend. Eleanor gets acquainted with the nobility.

“-and that’s everything,” Asra finished. It was around noon, and he had come to visit his old friend for some tea. Faust, his familiar, was hidden in his shirt. The snake’s body was cool against his chest.

Muriel was a hulk of a man; closer to seven feet than six, and barrel chested. Perhaps he would have been more frightening if he didn’t stand with such a terrible hunch. 

“That’s a lot,” he said simply. He didn’t care for listening to others talk about their personal lives, but Asra was a dear friend, and he needed Muriel’s objective ear.

Muriel lived in an isolated tower of the palace, bound to the count’s service. The count was fond of magic, but had a tendency to dispose of magicians when their tricks no longer amused him. Muriel had agreed to 20 years of service, and in exchange Lucio would leave Asra alone. 

“It’s been a week,” Asra went on. “I miss her.”

“But you haven’t told her about the boat?”

Asra shook his fluffy head. “I don’t know how to.”

“The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”

Asra sighed. “I know that, but I don’t see her much anyways. She’s too busy running around with Dr. Devorak, doing God knows what in that awful place.”

“And you’re worried about him?”

“No. I trust El. I’m jealous that he sees more of her, is all.”

Muriel nodded, fingers expertly working yarn around knitting needles. He liked visiting with Asra more when Eleanor wasn’t with him. It wasn’t because he disliked Eleanor, but when she was around, Asra couldn’t focus on anything else. They lived in their own, peaceful world. 

“You like El, don’t you?” Asra asked.

Muriel thought of Eleanor. She was quiet and reserved, but never timid. She might have been on of the few strangers who wasn’t intimidated of Muriel. Certainly, he found her stunningly beautiful. They had never met without Asra present, and didn’t speak much with each other. They’d once agreed that it’d be nice to live away from the city. “She’s quiet,” Muriel said.

“She’s not when you get to know her.”

Muriel shrugged, buried beneath his knitting. His long, dark hair fell over his face. He imagined that he would like Eleanor well enough, if he knew her better.

In a different part of the palace, Julian and Eleanor were having lunch with the Countess. Nadia was even taller than Eleanor, with a strong, slender frame. Her skin was dark-olive, and she had a regal, distinguished face. The Countess, intuitive as she was, could tell Eleanor was uneasy. If the girl really hailed from a fishing village, she was unlikely used to the finery of the dining room.

Nadia studied Eleanor’s face closely whenever she turned away. She had a scar across her eyebrow, which made her look hard at first glance. On the second glance, she had a heart-shaped face, round cheeks, and cheekbones that many would envy. Nadia supposed that she would be quite lovely if she didn’t have such a mean look in her eye.

“I’m glad you were able to join me, I wanted to discuss what you have planned,” Nadia said. “As you know, we are eager to fund your studies so long as progress is made.”

“I understand,” Eleanor replied as servants placed food on the table. She eyed the food suspiciously as they heaped her plate with fine morsels.

“Concerned about poison?” Nadia asked, raising one fine eyebrow.

“Always a concern when dining with the powerful,” the sorceress replied. She sniffed the food, thought for a moment, then took a bite.

Julian swooped into the conversation. “Eleanor is a great potioneer,” he said.

“I am,” she said, “I’m going to develop some medicines.”

“And not a cure?” Nadia asked.

“The patients pass really quickly after the earliest symptoms,” Julian said. “I know your procurator can smell the plague. You might’ve noticed that a person can be sick for weeks before they have any symptoms.”

“Indeed,” Nadia said. “They rarely believe Volta when she tells them.”

“Point being, Countess, we have two goals,” Julian went on. “We need to figure out how to detect it sooner, and how to get the patients to live longer. Right now, we just don’t have the time to research a real cure.”

“Has your director approved this plan?” Nadia asked.

Eleanor snorted. “All he wants to do it torture people and cut up corpses. I can’t believe you let someone like that work in.”

“Although I oversee your efforts, I don’t have to power to remove the Quaestor,” Nadia said, trying not to show how taken aback she was. “Unfortunately. I’m well aware of his… eccentricities.”

“I’m sorry Countess,” Julian said. “Ellie’s not familiar with nobles.”

“I’m too familiar with nobility,” Eleanor retorted, then she looked pointedly at Nadia. “That’s why I don’t trust them.”

“Ellie!”

“It’s quite alright,” Nadia told Julian. “I wish more citizens would be more candid with me. I’m sure I can count on you, Eleanor.”

The girl didn’t reply. She pushed her food around with her fork, still ill at-ease. Nadia wondered how she could make her more comfortable. Eleanor seemed intelligent. Nadia wanted her as an ally, even if she did have an issue with authority.

“Eleanor, forgive me for saying, you seem younger than I expected,” Nadia said. Flattery was usually a safe bet, and Julian had mentioned that she was older than she looked.

“Do I?”

“When Julian said you were an old friend, I expected someone closer to his age.”

“I look young.” She was curt; obviously unreceptive. 

Julian and Nadia were both looking at Eleanor with critical eyes. She glanced between the two of them as her grip tightened on her fork, like she was ready to use it as a weapon. Nadia noticed the rise in tension, despite Eleanor’s calm face.

“How lucky,” Nadia said, wisely easing away. She supposed that Eleanor was loathe to sharing details with strangers.

She wiped her mouth and rose. “Well, I have a meeting with the Praetor, if you’d excuse me.”

“Have fun with that,” Eleanor said. She’d met the Praetor.

Nadia gave her a smirk, and left. Eleanor immediately reared on Julian. “You’ve been talking about me.”

“Of course, you’re a new employee,” Julian said. He and Nadia had discussed Eleanor earlier, only because he wanted to warn her that the sorceress could be brash.

“Spare me the decor,” Eleanor snarled. She twirled the fork in her fingers and stabbed it into the table, startling Julian. “My business is my business. I don’t need my friend talking bad about me.”

“I’m sorry Ellie, I really did mean any harm by it, honest.”

Eleanor shook her golden head and pulled the fork back out of the table. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”

Julian blinked quickly. “You’re apologizing? You have changed.”

“I’ve realized that I shouldn’t attack everything that makes me upset.”

Julian laughed. “You still love a good fight though.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“What? I’d never have thought.” Julian was shocked. Eleanor loved fighting, and she’d always been very good at it.

She nodded. “That’s who I am now. It’s who Asra wants me to be.”

“Did he say that?”

She snorted. “Well, no. It’s for my own sake, really. I’m more… at peace.”

Julian grunted. She didn’t really seem at peace.

“I do miss it sometimes,” she added.

“Have you been to the coliseum? You could compete.”

“I couldn’t, Asra hates it. I don’t want him to know that side of me.”

Julian supposed if he was dating a foxy little magician, he’d also be quite whipped. “It’s your life, darling.”

“We should get back to work. Did you ever find out where we can get some caniboid root?”

Julian said nothing. He was looking over Eleanor’s shoulder, towards the door. The person standing there was the very same one she’d been avoiding. He tried to tell Ellie what it was with his eyes.

Eleanor must’ve received the message, because she closed her eyes and took a breath. Julian knew that her mind must’ve been racing.

Eleanor stood and turned. “Long time no see,” she said.

Count Lucio was frozen in place, and Eleanor’s eyes snapped across him. The Count was middle aged, but still handsome. His hairline was just starting the recede, and he battled the earliest signs of wrinkles. Her gaze lingered on his golden arm, glowing with white veins.

Lucio looked like he was seeing a ghost. It had been many years, and here was his Ellie, completely unchanged. Julian could only imagine how much her apparent youth stung, since Lucio now looked nearly twice her age.

“Ellie,” he said. 

“Lucio,” she replied. 

Julian heard the tenderness in her voice, how she used to speak to her lover. Lucio eased closer to her, as if he believed she might disappear. 

“I’ll just… step out… then…” Julian said, slowly standing.

Eleanor didn’t turn from Lucio. “Sit back down,” she snapped. Julian’s chair scraped the floor as he sat.

The pair were chest to chest, circling each other likes wolves. Lucio finally stopped moving, reached forward to touch her face, then drew away. Anger grew on his sharp face. “Get out of my palace.”

“No,” Eleanor said.

“No?” he bellowed. Eleanor stepped away, but he closed the gap again. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help.” Her voice was infuriatingly calm.

He seized a glass chalice and hurled it at the wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. Eleanor didn’t flinch. Lucio turned back to her. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

“Maybe you don’t, but other people do, so I’m staying.”

Lucio whipped around and put his metal fist through the plaster wall, and kept it there for several seconds. He finally pulled his arm out and turned back to Ellie. His voice was lowered, but it still shook with rage. “Fine. Just stay away from me.”

He started to leave. Eleanor started to follow after him. “Lucio, wait-”

Julian leapt up and grabbed Eleanor’s arm. “Let him go Ellie.”

She watched Lucio storm away. “I really hurt him.”

“You did.”

“How do I fix it?” She looked up at Julian. He’d never seen her so lost.

“Some things can’t be fixed.”


	4. Quiet Moments like These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El and Asra spend some quality time together. Much is weighing on the magician's mind.

It was early morning, and Eleanor and Asra were curled up in their modest bed. After much pleading and homesickness, she had caved, and agreed to spend the weekend at home. They were facing each other, both slightly curled, naked but not touching. Asra was listening to her breathe as she slept, her chest rising and falling like calm seas. He often laid awake to watch her sleep and wondered what she was dreaming about.

El had told him about her nightmares before; always of fire and jarring symbols. She’d wince and cry in her sleep, and Asra would hold her until until it passed. At that moment, her mind was elsewhere. He could tell from her peaceful face.

He thought of the ship to Prakra. It was leaving in two weeks, and he still hadn’t told her. It never seemed like the right moment, especially knowing that she might decline. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she said no. She would probably insist that he went without her, so she could martyr herself in the name of charity. 

Asra knew how selfish it would be to ask her to run away with him, but that didn’t make him want it any less. He felt his eyes well up as he thought of their future. He was realizing more and more that they couldn’t be together forever; she’d leave for his sake, unless she died first. He couldn’t decide which would be worse.

He notice her breathing was more ragged, and refocused on her. Eleanor’s brows were knit together and her lower lip wobbled. One glass tear ran across her face, then another. He had never seen her cry when she was awake, and he had vowed not tell her that she cried in her sleep. She would be mortified.

The tears were running faster now. Asra wiped his own face then reached for Eleanor, pulling her body against his. He felt her heart pounding against his bare chest, and her face contorting against his neck. They both wept silently; Asra for the future, and Eleanor for the past. She would never know about that moment.

He finally felt her relax again while the sun began to rise outside their little window. The crystal prisms that hung from the curtain rod scattered rainbows across the opposite wall. Eleanor would leave when she woke, and go back to the pit she’d resigned herself to dying in. Asra wanted to savor these tenders moments, before they were only memories. He closed his eyes, trying to go back to sleep. 

He’d nearly drifted away when he felt her arms wrap him, her body pressed closer. She was awake now, pretending to be asleep. He slid his leg between hers, creating even more contact between them. Asra wanted to feel as much of her as he could, for as long as he could.

Eleanor’s mouth brushed his neck, and his manhood began to stiffen. She bent her leg and wrapped it around his hip, so they were perfectly aligned with each other. Asra tilted his head towards her, eyes still closed, and their lips met. They moved in slow harmony. It was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

He broke away, shifting himself further down to kiss her slender neck. She sighed and raised her chin, arms and legs tightening around him. He slid one arm beneath her waist, and rubbed her back with the other, tracing up and down her spine.

She was ready for him, but there was no rush. She pressed one hand flat to his chest, and with the other caressed the side of his face, brushing the hair at his temples with her fingertips. He nuzzled against her neck, occasionally pressed a kiss to her collar or chin. They held each other like that for awhile, half-asleep. There were only two people in their rose-colored world, and that was how they liked it.

He reached down, held her by the seat, and she raised her leg a little higher. She moaned quietly when he entered her, fingers curling around the back his skull. They kissed again while he barely shifted his hips, just enough to keep himself solid. He was more concerned with enjoying the ride then reaching the destination.

Preoccupied with making gentle love, they both lost track of time. The sun rose higher, the room grew a little brighter. They touched their foreheads together, noses bumping, and finally looked at each other. From where Eleanor laid, the light reflected in his stunningly violet eyes. His mouth was just open, begging for another kiss. Their eyes fluttered closed as they kissed again. She hummed against his lips.

Asra held her tight as he finished. He tucked his head under her chin, and whispered “I love you,” into her neck.

She pressed a sleepy kiss to his brow, still not fully awake. “I love you, too,” she replied.

They stayed like that as long as they could, even after his arm fell asleep beneath her ribs, and even after he slipped from inside of her. He breathed in her smell, trying to commit it fully to memory. It was the quiet moments like these, he decided, that made our turbulent lives good.

“Asra, my love,” she said, petting his soft hair. “We both have to work.”

“Stay with me,” he murmured.

Eleanor’s head was propped up by her elbow. She saw that he was still tired. She was tired, too. “Just a little longer,” she agreed, and settled back into bed.

She rubbed his crown until he fell soundly asleep, then slipped out of bed as quietly as she could. She longed to stay with every ounce of her heart, but there were patients who needed help and it would be selfish of her to stay.

She dressed, kissed Asra’s serene face, and left a note on her pillow. As she exited onto the already-busy street, Eleanor wished she was enjoying the peace of his warm embrace.


	5. Regarding the Plague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and El make some progress. Lucio thinks about the past. El and the countess make plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware perspective jumps.

Julian was the proud owner of a humble clinic in the the seedier part of town. These days, his patients were mostly plague victims. He struggled to divide his time between his research at the palace and the clinic, but his nurses were very capable of handling the victims. Still, he was exhausted.

Eleanor sometimes accompanied him while he treated patients. She was capable and quick to learn, but her bedside manner was atrocious. Julian once heard her bluntly tell a child that her father would die in three days. She was right, but that was no way to speak with a scared little kid.

That morning the pair was spending time in the palace lab, where Eleanor’s skill as a potioneer was beginning to pay off. 

Eleanor regarded the bottle in her hand, help up to the light. It was translucent pink and slightly thicker than water. Julian was standing behind her. Both were outfitted in protective clothing, standing beside a complicated apparatus of glassware. The potion was the result of their recent experiments.

“How do you propose we test it?” Julian asked.

Eleanor lowered the bottle. As she told Julian, it had her own blood, as well as other southern women she’d found. In her years in Vesuvia and traveling across the continents, she’d noticed that certain groups, once they contracted the plague, didn’t subcumb to it as quickly. 

“Well, it might still have active parts in it,” Eleanor said, “so it’s not safe to test on anyone who’s not already sick.”

“It could make a healthy person get sick faster.” 

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s no cure, but if it does what I hope it does, it’ll buy us a lot of time. It might even give people enough strength to fight it, make them less likely to die.”

Julian was pleased with Eleanor’s work. “How did you come up with it?” He asked her.

She shrugged. “Various things I picked up in my travels. Bits and pieces.”

“Brilliant.”

“We still don’t know if it works.”

Just then, Valdemar entered the room, directing two men with a body bag. “Set him there. Perfect. Thank you.”

Julian and Eleanor approached as the bag as Valdemar opened it up. They recognized the man.

“The mortician,” Julian said. He was numb to the death by now. “That’s a shame, he was nice.”

Beside him, Eleanor was quiet. Julian noticed. “Something to say?”

“Don’t be shy,” Valdemar urged, producing a scalpel. They set to work on the body.

“Hasn’t anyone noticed that the people who catch it the most often, are the people who work with the bodies?”

Valdemar was not interested. They were humming as they sliced the poor mortician.

Julian was appalled with himself for not noticing sooner. “My stars, you’re right. The bodies are spreading it faster.”

“We should be burning the corpses,” Eleanor said.

“We’d have to build a massive crematorium to handle it all. Lucio wouldn’t want to pay for it.”

Eleanor placed her hands on her hips. “Why not? If it helps people stay healthy.”

Julian gestured broadly to the room. “Look around, there’s only three of us, and our tools are primitive.”

“There’s no point in funding,” Valdemar said. “The plague comes and goes so quickly, and it’s slightly different each time. Truly amazing.”

Eleanor sighed. “I’ll talk to Lucio about it.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Julian said.

“I’m probably the only person who can talk him into it,” Eleanor went on. She held up the bottle, examining it again. “In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can get some patients to volunteer.”

“Human trials already? It could kill them.”

Eleanor shrugged. “They’re dying anyway.”

Julian shook his head. He’d forgotten how cold Eleanor could be. She was a mercenary after all. He’d seen what she was capable of. He looked at the corpse again, and decided that he didn’t want to watch Valdemar dissect a man today. “Let’s go to the clinic now. I’ll go with you.”

So the pair went to Julian’s clinic. It was a humble place, usually quiet and neat, but the plague outbreak had overwhelmed the place. The waiting room was filled with red-eyed victims, some laying on the floor, already almost dead. There rooms where at quadruple occupancy and the nurses rushed through the busy hallway. The coroners and the orderlies carted bodies out two at a time.

The clinic always hemorrhaged money when an outbreak began, but Julian couldn’t bear to turn people away. They took whatever the victims’ families offered. Besides, as Valdemar said, the waves were short lived. His clinic would go back to normal in a few weeks.

Eleanor went from room to room, explaining the risks to the infected. Julian tagged along, checking on patients as he went. There were many volunteers. Julian advised Eleanor on different treatment plans, dosage amounts, and dosage frequency. She was eager to see when the patients would start dying. Julian remembered why Eleanor used to frighten him so much. 

The following morning, Lucio was on his way to a morning meeting when he recognized the sound of Eleanor’s long stride. He half-thought to confront her, but thought better of it. Instead he ducked into an office. He watched her go out towards the gardens.

She was wearing sturdy, form-fitting clothing. She wore a sleeveless turtleneck, revealing her strong, solid arms. He noticed that her hips and shoulders still made a perfect, rounded hourglass, and her thighs still jiggled when she walked. God, he used to live between those thighs. He used to love leaving bites and bruises on them, where they couldn’t be seen by anyone else. She looked good. Really good.

As much as it pained him to admit, he was happy to see that she was taking care of herself. He wondered if she still had nightmares, then shook the thought. What did he care if she had nightmares? She meant nothing. Nothing.

Once she was out of his sight, he continued on his way to the morning meeting. He ran his hands over his slicked-back hair, and remembered how she used to pet him whenever he felt down. He even saw her hair when he looked at his own golden metals, but none of that was new. She’d been haunting him for years, and he had only just gotten used to it. Now she was back to ruin his life.

He looked over the harbor as his carriage passed. He had once watched Ellie, while very drunk, put on a display of magical fireworks like no-one had ever seen. Sizzling green dragons and golden eagles soared over Vesuvia. He could still see the explosive colors reflected in the dark water, and the lights reflected in her eyes. Her face had glowed with pride when Lucio shouted his amazement. They’d also blown up a pirate ship that morning. It was an exciting day.

Lucio sank back into his seat and sighed. He’d let himself get so old, and Ellie still looked young. It was a stinging betrayal; they were supposed to stay young forever, together. They were the King and Queen of everything; two tribesmen carving a place for themselves in the ugly, wonderful world.

Nadia did not notice when Eleanor approached. She was deeply invested in her novel. Eleanor didn’t even recognize the language on the gilded cover.

“Countess, I need to talk with Lucio,” Eleanor said.

Nadia looked up from the book. “Did you check the armory?”

They were in the hedge maze, in a little corner that Lucio could never seem to find. It was where Nadia came for peace and quiet. She was sitting beneath a trellis of white roses with her feet kicked up. Her long, magnificent hair and elegant gown spilled across the bench like a sea of silk.

“Well, I need to talk to you about talking to Lucio,” Eleanor said. “I need your help.”

Nadia closed her book and sat up. “He doesn’t listen to me. I’ve tried many times.”

“He might listen to me though,” Eleanor said, kicking at the dirt. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Nadia replied. “It would certainly be amusing to watch you try. He’s quite stubborn, you know.”

Eleanor snorted and rolled her eyes. “He’s always been that way. His way or the highway.”

Nadia laughed. “Some things never change.”

“Anyways, I wanted to run some ideas past you before I tried to talk to him. Maybe if we both come at him, we have a chance.”

Nadia adjusted her skirts, making a spot for Eleanor. “Sit, share your ideas.”

Eleanor, tentative, left as much distance between herself and the Countess as she could. Nadia noticed and supposed that it couldn’t be helped. “Well, the plague bodies are more infectious than the living victims. The coroners get sick more often than the nurses do.”

“I’m surprised no one has noticed before.”

“Well, you people haven’t hired anyone competent before.”

Nadia bristled a little, but let it slide. She could appreciate such honesty. “Fair enough. What is your plan?”

“It’s pretty cruel, you might not like it.”

“Don’t hesitate, out with it.”

“If we seperate all the sick far away from the healthy, then fewer people will come into contact with the bodies. If volunteers are left in charge, they can direct the sick that are healthy enough to work in corpse disposal. Maybe we can pay their families for their service.”

Nadia nodded. “It is gruesome, but if you’re right, it may be drastic enough to help. Where would we build such a place?”

“The disease doesn’t seem waterborne. We could build a dorm and a crematorium on one of the islands in the harbor.”

“Like a ship’s lazaret.”

“Exactly. We send people there before they die.”

Nadia nodded. “I’ve had similar thoughts, but I didn’t have the evidence to support an argument. I will mention it to Lucio.”

“Then I’ll talk to him. Maybe together we can get through.”

Nadia smiled at Eleanor and touched her hand. “I knew bringing you on was a good idea.”

Eleanor looked away, blushing. “Of course it was.”

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Eleanor.”

She rubbed her neck, blush intensifying. Nadia found it cute. “You can call me El, Countess.”

“And you may call me Nadia.”

Eleanor leapt to her feet. “Well, back to it.”

Nadia considered the younger woman. She still had a soft spot for blondes, even though it had landed her in an awful marriage. Crass as she was, Eleanor was no exception. “Very well,” Nadia said, returning to her book. “Keep up the good work.”

Eleanor bobbed her head and left the maze. Nadia looked up to watch her go, charmed by the way she walked.


	6. The Gladiator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muriel and Eleanor get to know each other.

As much as he enjoyed peace and quiet, Muriel found life as a gladiator terribly boring. Aside from the battles themselves, that was.

He spent his free time knitting, reading, exercising, or simply pacing and thinking. He didn’t like to go out during the day. The town people never failed to recognize him. He played the villain in every story, which didn’t do much for his public image. People usually avoided him, whispered as he went past, or if they were especially bold, they would throw things.

That morning he was training. He was doing pull-ups from the doorframe when Eleanor came up the stairs. Muriel didn’t notice the sorceress until she called out to him.

He dropped and landed on his feet with a heavy thud. His hair was pulled into a bun. He wore even fewer clothes than usual, showing the chiseled muscles on his arms and torso. Sweat glistened on his shoulders and in his chest hair. 

“Has Asra been by?” Eleanor asked.

Muriel shook his head, eyes on the ground while his wiped off his hands. 

She nodded, turned to leave, but then something made her reconsider. “Don’t you get bored, being up here all day?” She asked.

Muriel looked up, surprised at the question. He considered the woman on the landing. It was the first time she’d been up there without Asra, and her demeanor was very different. She had a soldier’s posture and her face was neutral. Though he was much taller, her stormy eyes still leveled him, somehow. 

He stepped out of the doorway and waved her inside. She glanced at him as she passed, watching for any kind of aggression. Muriel recognized the readiness to retaliate; he did the same thing.

Eleanor observed the room. It was sparsely decorated, though he had a large window. She seemed to relax a little when she saw the plants on the sill. Gardening was a gentle person’s habit, Muriel supposed.

“People don’t visit often, do they?” she said as she looked out the window. From the high tower, the maze and gardens could be seen.

“No,” was all Muriel said.

“You don’t want them to.” 

“No.”

Eleanor turned back to him. He felt an unusual impulse to talk to her, to say something meaningful. Nothing he could think of sounded right.

“Do you still have fun fighting?” Eleanor asked.

“Fun?”

“It was fun at one point, wasn’t it?”

Muriel thought for a moment. Being in the gladiator arena with hundreds of screaming people was terrifying, but then he thought of being young and wrestling with Asra. “I guess it was.”

“Depends on the partner.”

“Yeah.”

They fell silent. He had to say something. “Do you?”

“Have fun?”

He nodded.

“Too much, probably. I made a really good mercenary.” She touched the the potted ivy, pinching a leaf between her fingers. “I’m out of practice now.”

“You could practice with me.”

Eleanor looked back up at Muriel, brows raised with surprise. He looked away, blushing furiously, and scratched the back of his head. “If you wanted to,” he stumbled out. “Everyone is too scared to spare with me, and you seem like… well you could… you look tough.”

Eleanor’s mouth grew into a gentle smile as Muriel went on. His heart was hammering in his chest. At the sight of the friendly twinkle in her eye he felt like he would melt. He couldn’t fathom why. She was his best friend’s love, after all. 

She crossed her arms behind her back and stood with tilted shoulders. “You want to go a few rounds with me?”

“Only- you know- only if you want to.”

“I’m pretty good, you know. I used to train soldiers.”

“Asra told me.” Muriel was suddenly self conscious. Where was his shirt?

“Then yeah, that’d be great! I’m off tomorrow morning, let’s meet in the gym after breakfast.”

Oh no.

“I’ll see if Asra wants to come.”

Oh no.

“If I want to come and what?” Asra asked, appearing in the doorway.

 

“Asra,” Eleanor purred as she crossed the room. “I was just looking for you.”

They couple linked hands and just like that, Muriel didn’t exist anymore. “What for?” Asra asked.

“Jules and I made some progress. I wanted to tell you.”

“That’s great!”

Muriel cleared his throat. The lovers turned back to him. “Did you need something?” he asked Asra.

“I was looking for El, figured I’d say hi while I was here. When did you guys start hanging out?”

Muriel was gruff. “We don’t.”

Asra was delighted. “I’m really glad you guys are finally friends. You know, you’re my favorite people in the world.”

Ellie, still with that gentle smile, kissed his cheek. Muriel’s eye-roll went unnoticed. 

“Muriel, don’t forget, or I’ll come drag you down there myself,” Eleanor said. Asra laughed, but both men knew she wasn’t kidding.

Muriel nodded. “I won’t.”

“See you later,” Asra said as the pair left with their arms around each other. Muriel couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. 

The door closed and Muriel was alone again.


	7. Sparring Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor helps Muriel train. They have a good time until Lucio shows up.

Muriel and Eleanor stood across from each other, barefooted on the practice mat. They were both dressed in light, close-fitting clothes. Eleanor’s neck-length hair was in a french-braid with loose tendrils falling about her face. Muriel cursed himself.

“What do you usually use? I’ll match you,” Eleanor said.

Muriel approached the wall of weapons. He wanted to choose whatever would do the least damage, so he reached for a wooden staff.

“I’ll definitely put you on the floor if you pick that,” Eleanor said.

Muriel grimaced. His usual weapon was an ax, but he couldn’t use that on El. He was at a loss. 

“You could do hand-to-hand,” Asra said. He was sitting on the floor, eating grapes. His familiar was curled up in his lap.

Muriel considered. It would certainly put the odds in his favor; he was much larger than Eleanor. Still, he was desperately terrified of hurting her.

“Back to basics, I like it,” Eleanor said.

“Hand to hand it is,” Muriel agreed with a nod.

“Be our ref?” Eleanor asked Asra.

“No problem.”

“I’ll try not to hurt you,” Muriel said.

Eleanor’s brows raised. Asra laughed. “I’m more worried about you than her,” he said.

“I hope you respect me enough not to go easy,” Eleanor told Muriel, raising her fists in front of herself. Muriel mimicked her, planting his feet firmly. 

“Ready?” Asra asked.

Muriel looked at Eleanor’s face. Being scarred-up himself, he didn’t think her scars were especially scary. Her nose was just a little bent, probably from being broken many times. He noted the perfect bow of her lips and felt himself waver. How could such a fierce person still be so beautiful?

“Start!” 

Muriel swung a heavy first for Eleanor’s head. She ducked and side stepped, faster than he thought she could. He turned to her again. She dropped and swung her leg, catching the back of Muriel’s ankles. He was on his back, stunned, before he even knew what happened.

Eleanor looked down at him, hands planted on her hips. “You underestimated me.”

“I did.”

“I’ll make it hurt if you do it again.”

“I won’t.” Lesson learned.

Eleanor offered her hand and pulled Muriel back to his feet. “Shall we go again?”

Muriel nodded, put his fists back up. He was ready this time.

“Ready?” Asra said.

Eleanor bent her knees and sank a little lower. He knew she was planning something different for this round.

“Start!”

Eleanor stepped and elbowed Muriel in the ribs. He turned to grab her. She bobbed to the side, out of reach. He lunged for her, but she twisted around and drove her shoulder into his hips. Muriel fell forward and somersaulted back to his feet. 

Muriel swung at Eleanor. She dodged again. He went to step forward, but as soon as he raised his foot, Eleanor sank and tackled him around the waist. She locked around him, pushed up with her legs, and the giant toppled over her shoulder.

He landed on his front, and Eleanor pounced on his back. Her arms locked around him just as he tried to roll over. She was between his back and the ground. She planted her feet and raised her hips as high as she could, lifting him off the ground. She was locked around his upper chest, under his armpits. Her arms were raised so he couldn’t reach backwards to grab her, 

He had to think. What could he do?

Before he had an answer, Eleanor twisted her body, shoving Muriel into the ground. She bounced to her feet then dropped, about to drive her knee into him. When Muriel felt her knee just tap his neck, he knew it would’ve been a finisher.

“Point El,” Asra said. 

Eleanor helped Muriel up again. “You could’ve won when I was under you.”

“How?”

“You’re bigger and stronger than me. You could’ve flipped and thrown me off if you were fast enough.”

“You used to train soldiers?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you could give me some pointers?”

Eleanor didn’t seem too surprised. “Are you asking me to train you?”

Muriel swallowed. “Yes.”

She beamed. “I’m always happy to tell people what to do. Show me your stance again.”

Muriel nodded and raised his fists like he would if he were about to fight. Eleanor circled him, gaze trailing up and down his form. She stopped in front of him again, hands against her hips. “I bet it’s the little, fast guys who give you the hardest time.”

Muriel nodded, straightening up. His face was a little warm.

“You haven’t had any real training, have you?”

He shook his head.

“It shows. You’re heavy on your heels; that makes it harder for you to move fast. You’re hard to beat because you’re so big and strong, but you have no real skill. You’ll lose if you have to fight someone bigger than you.”

“Harsh, El,” Asra said.

“It’s okay, she’s right,” Muriel said. “What should I be doing?”

“Put more weight on your toes, try to move your feet more.” Eleanor struck a fighting stance. “I’ll try to hit you, and you try to block or dodge. We’ll go three times. Ready?”

Muriel posed again, watching her hands. “Ready.”

Eleanor jabbed him once in the side. He stepped back the second time, but she still hit him in the stomach. Then she went to chop his shoulder, which he barely blocked with his forearm.

Eleanor kept her pose up. “Don’t look at my hands, look at me.”

Muriel did as she said. It was hard to meet her intense eyes.

“Keep your eyes on my face, but use your peripheral vision to watch my hips and shoulders. That’s where you can see what I’m about to hit you with. Let’s go again.”

She caught him the first time, then he blocked a second blow to the ribs. She kicked at his knee. He stepped back to avoid it. “Better,” she said. “One more time.”

While Muriel and Eleanor went back and forth, Lucio entered the room. He watched critically as Eleanor coached her new student.

“You still don’t cover your face well enough,” Lucio called out.

Eleanor jumped. “Lucio, what are you doing here?”

Lucio leaned against the wall. He was dressed in his more casual finerary; a red jacket with a fur-topped cape. There was a thick golden chain around his neck. “Can’t a teacher check in on his old student?”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

He shrugged. “Curiosity got the best of me.”

Asra’s mouth curled unpleasantly as he watched the Count. Muriel looked at the ground. “I actually need to talk to you,” Eleanor said. “We-”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Lucio said, waving his hand dismissively. “By all means, keep playing with each other.”

Eleanor growled, then turned back to Muriel. He saw that all the cheer had left her face. “Let’s change it up. You try hitting me, and I’ll dodge. Think about where you want to hit me, and then move fast. Not full force though, right?”

Muriel nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Eleanor dodged all three of his blows. His nerves weren’t helping him think clearly.

“When you move to hit me, you’re using your entire body,” she said, and mimicked one of his blows, leaning into it with her torso. “There’s a lot of force in a hit like that. If you catch a smaller opponent, you’re breaking bones. One-hit win.”

Muriel nodded. 

“But, it’s a slow movement, with limited range. I can see it coming. You’d have to catch me off guard to hit me. Try hitting me again, using quicker movements this time.”

Muriel got her with the third blow, making contact with the side of her face as softly as he could. He felt guilty as she rubbed her jaw. “Good, that’s a lot better.”

“Ellie was always too soft on our trainees,” Lucio stage-whispered to Asra. Asra shook his head. Eleanor ignored the comment.

“One more time,” she told Muriel. He got her on the second blow, and barely missed her with the third. He wondered if she was letting him hit her.

“Better,” she praised. “Let’s take it up a little. Exchange blows with me. No grabs. I’ll go first. Asra, can you call it?”

“Ready?” Asra said. “Start!”

Eleanor’s first punch landed in his stomach. His first blow just grazed her cheek. He blocked a punch to the diaphragm with crossed arms.

“You’re still not defending your face,” Lucio called out.

Eleanor growled as she landed an uppercut on Muriel’s chin. Her brows were angled, and her jaw was set. Muriel wondered if they should call it soon. 

She stepped back to avoid Muriel’s kick. “We have to work on those,” she said, chopping his side with a knife hand. 

“He won’t learn anything if you don’t make it hurt,” Lucio said.

Eleanor turned from Muriel, hunches raised like a cat’s. “Would you shut up?” she demanded.

Then Muriel’s shoulder crashed into her hip, and she went flying. She landed several feet away on her side, where she stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Lucio roared with laughter.

“You knocked me down,” she stated. She was reclined with her hands behind and her legs bent in front.

Muriel shrugged. “You looked away.”

She threw her head back and laughed. It was a loud, bright sound. Asra was enchanted. Lucio was suddenly flustered. Muriel was stunned.

She looked at her opponent with twinkling eyes, and extended her hand towards him. “I did, didn’t I?”

Muriel took her hand and pulled her up. He was so strong that she popped straight to her feet. She clapped him on the arm. He grinned gently down at her, hopelessly enamored. 

“Why are you fighting this guy Ellie?” Lucio said, killing the light atmosphere. “It’ll be an easy win every time.”

Muriel stepped away from Eleanor as she straightened up. “I’m having fun with my friends,” she said, crossing her arms. From where he stood, Muriel swore he could feel heat radiating from her.

“You’re a monster,” Lucio went on. “He’s no match for you.”

“She’s not a monster,” Asra said, getting to his feet. Lucio wasn’t scared of the little magician.

“Why don’t you fight me then?” Eleanor prodded.

Lucio drew back in mock surprise. “You’d fight a disabled man?”

“If anything, that arm’s an advantage.”

Lucio grinned and began removing his clothing. “Alright Ellie, let’s fight.”

He threw his cape and coat on top of Asra, who shoved them away in disgust. He kept only his trousers on as he approached the weapon rack. He may have been older, but he was still well built- perhaps even stronger than in his younger years. Where his arm attached to his shoulder, the skin was puckered with scar tissue.

His tossed Eleanor a staff. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

She caught the staff and spun it in her hands. “You remember.”

“I’ve seen you kill more than a few people with it.”

Eleanor swallowed and glanced at Asra. She’d never told him explicitly that she’d killed, but he had already guessed as much. He knew her former line of work.

“Ready?” Muriel said.

Eleanor and Lucio each chose their stance. Lucio held the staff in front of him. Eleanor held hers behind herself. Without looking away from each other, they both nodded.

“Begin.”

Lucio charged forward, swinging his staff like a sword. She barely managed to block. They exchanged several blows, filling the room with the sound of wooden clashes. He moved to the right. She went to defend herself, but then he switched. He swung down at her left collar; a bone breaker. She moved just enough so he hit the meat of her shoulder instead. It was painful but harmless.

She jumped back from him, and they circled each other, both beginning to run out of breath. 

“You’re sloppier,” Eleanor said.

“You’re slower,” he replied.

She dipped low and swung at his feet. He leapt, dodging the blow, and brought the end of the staff straight down at her. She rolled aside and bounced back to her feet. “I think you mean ‘more deliberate’.”

“I mean you’re still a pain in the ass,” he grunted, striking with one side of the staff and then the other. Eleanor blocked both movements.

Their staffs collided again and again. “I need to talk you about the plague,” Eleanor said as she ducked. His staff whistled as it went over her head.

“I don’t want to talk about the plague,” he said. She whacked his hip lightly. He dodged when she went for a stronger strike.

Eleanor went on anyway. “We have to burn the bodies. They’re spreading the disease, and they attract more plague beetles.”

He said nothing, though he seemed to be hitting her harder.

“We should build a crematorium out on the harbor. We can use it as a quarantine, too.”

“What does it matter? It always passes by autumn.”

“They’re your people now. You have to protect them.”

The staffs collided, and they pushed against each other. Their faces were close enough to whisper.

“I don’t owe them shit,” Lucio said,

“A ruler owes his people everything, most of all his care.”

They broke apart. Lucio came at her again. She blocked each blow with perfect accuracy, but didn’t move to strike him. Muriel could tell that she was trying to draw the fight out as long as she could, so she could keep his attention.

“I don’t care about anyone,” Lucio boasted. 

“You cared about our team,” Eleanor said. “You cared about me.”

They were starting to exhaust each other. Lucio went to stab; she sidestepped and knocked his staff aside. “That was before you left in the middle of the night,” he grunted.

“It was cowardly. I’m sorry.”

Lucio was getting angrier. His moves were faster, more ferocious. “Fucked up thing to do to someone you love.”

Asra narrowed his eyes. Eleanor said she and Lucio used to be an item, not that they were in love.

“I’m a different person now,” Eleanor said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been through a lot since then.”

“You’ve been through a lot? Julian cut off my fucking arm!”

Eleanor stepped away, held her staff back. They watched each other with heaving chests.

“I should’ve been there, I’m sorry,” she said. “I mean it.”

Lucio lowered his staff and leaned on it, trying to catch his breath. He seemed too worn out to shout anymore. “That doesn’t change anything. What was here,” he gesture to both of them, “it’s never going back to how it was.”

“I know,” she said. “It can’t, but I’ll do anything to make you forgive me.”

He shook his head. “That’ll never happen.”

“I’m still gonna try.”

Muriel looked at Asra, who was watching intently. The magician wasn’t angry or jealous; it simply wasn’t in his nature. He knew Eleanor wasn’t trying to win Lucio back, but it was one more reason why she wouldn’t want to leave Vesuvia. 

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Lucio asked.

“No,” she replied. 

He rolled his eyes, dropped his staff, and began to leave, picking up his clothes as he went. 

“Think about the crematorium!” She called after him. He waved his hand as he disappeared around the corner.

Eleanor sighed and looked at the boys, who were both still on their feet. They were waiting in case they needed to swoop in.

“You’re fearless,” Asra said. 

Eleanor shrugged. “He won’t hurt me. He still loves me. At least, how I used to be.”

Asra fought the urge to gag. “You think so?”

“I know so. He’s never been able to move on from anything.”

“I hate him,” Asra said. Muriel nodded in agreement.

“He didn’t used to be so heartless,” Eleanor said, looking down the hall Lucio had taken. “If I can help him, he’ll be a better ruler for everyone.”

“If that's what you think.” Asra still thought it was a waste of time, but he wanted Eleanor to feel better.

She turned back to the men before her, a little more relaxed. “That was good session Muriel. Let’s do it again sometime.”


	8. Dinner with a View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra steals Eleanor away for the evening.

The melancholy of twilight hung over Vesuvia. The moon was a perfect crescent in the deep blue sky and the brightest stars were just visible. It was still warm outside, and the squares and plazas were still quite busy.

Asra knew where he might find Eleanor at that time of day, so he was on his way to see her. With him, he carried a wicker basket and a bouquet of summer flowers he’d picked earlier that morning; black-eyed susans, late-blooming lilacs, and geraniums in many shades of pink and yellow. He’d deliberately avoided roses- he knew Eleanor hated them.

A bell on the door rang when he entered Julian’s clinic. There were several people in the waiting room, most of them with the plague. Eleanor hold told him that it didn’t pass easily from person to person, but he still gave them a wide berth.

Julian peered out of a doorway. He leaned out of the room, hanging onto the doorframe. “Looking for Ellie?”

“Is she here?” Asra asked.

Julian glanced into the room, then back to Asra. “Why don’t you wait in my office? She’ll be a moment. It’s upstairs, last door on the left.”

“Thank you,” Asra said. He went up the stairs and into the hall, dodging flying nurses as he went. He wondered if he’d chosen a bad time. Then again, whenever an outbreak happened, there never was a good time.

Julian’s office was cozy despite the horrific happenings right outside his door. The walls were packed with floor-to-ceiling books. Heavily perfumed candles littered the shelves, to ward off the smell of death. Asra sat on the couch in front of an empty fireplace and observed a framed picture on the mantle. It looked like something a child drew, depicting two red-headed people holding hands.

He looked up as the door opened. Eleanor was smiling at him radiantly, despite how exhausted she seemed. She wore an apron with bulging pockets, tied in a neat bow around her slender waist. “I’m so happy to see you,” she sighed.

“I am too,” he said as he bounced to his feet. They embraced each other, Eleanor leaning heavily into his chest.

They broke apart. “These are for you,” Asra said, offering her the flowers.

She accepted and held them to her face, breathing in their fresh scent. “You’re wonderful,” she praised. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m taking you out,” he said. In truth, he still needed to tell her about the ship the Prakra.

Her brows furrowed. “Oh Asra, you saw how crazy it is. I can’t leave now.”

“You should see yourself El, you look wiped out. When the last time you ate something?”

She looked sideways and mumbled something about ‘coffee’ and ‘that morning’. 

There was a knock at the office door, and Julian poked his head in. “Sorry to interrupt. Ellie, have you seen my notepad?”

“It’s in your pocket.”

Julian staightened up and pat himself down. “Right you are.”

“Dr. Devorak, do you mind if I borrow El for a while?” Asra asked.

“There are still people waiting to be helped in the lobby,” Eleanor said. “They’re literally dying.”

Julian crossed the room in three long strides. “They’ll die whether you’re here or not. Go get some dinner.”

Eleanor growled, threatening Julian with her eyes. He seemed a little shaken, but he was resolute. “If looks could kill,” he muttered, then more clearly, “ I’ll put these in some water.”

Eleanor let him take the flowers. He winked at Asra as he turned to choose a container from his shelf. Asra smirked and wondered if the doctor knew how charming he was.

“Alright boys, you win this round,” Eleanor said and she began untying her apron. “Jules, I’ll be back in an hour.”

Julian had chosen a large Erlenmeyer flask. “No hurry at all.”

“Thanks Dr.,” Asra said.

“Call me Julian, please,” the other replied. His half-smile was a little too wolfish to be professional.

Eleanor placed a hand on Asra’s back and shot Julian an annoyed look. She ushered Asra through the door.

“And bring me back something!” Julian called after the couple.

They stepped out onto the street. The sun had finished setting and it was cooler out now. Asra led Eleanor by the hand.

“So where are you taking me?” she asked. 

“I know you’re busy, so I planned ahead. This way.”

They walked for ten minutes before coming to a square, with an old church an the corner. It was a beautiful old chapel, with a bell tower the rose above the surrounding buildings. Asra lead Eleanor around to the back, to a side door out of the street’s view. He tapped the lock twice, and the chamber clicked.

“Breaking into a church?” Eleanor asked as Asra pushed the door open.

“Are you going to turn me in?” he asked, smiling coyly.

She stepped closer and gave his vest a playful tug. “I could be convinced not to.”

Asra chuckled as he gave her a quick kiss. “Come on, no time to waste.”

She puffed out her lower lip in a mock pout, then followed Asra into the church. It was almost completely dark inside. The only light came through the windows and made strange shapes on the floors and walls. They carefully felt their way up the staircase, then up a ladder and through a trapdoor.

They emerged in the bell tower, which was completely open to the nighttime air. From there, they had a good view of the lights of the city. People went by on the street below, not noticing any magicians in places they weren’t supposed to be.

Asra sat on the ground, legs dangling over the edge of the tower. Eleanor sat beside him. He passed her a loaf of bread, bundled in a cloth. “If you’d do the honors, my love,” he said.

“Why, certainly,” she replied. She held the loaf firmly in her hands, letting it gently warm until steam escaped the cloth.

“And one more,” he said, trading her for two staked kielbasas.

“It’s not a meal without meat,” Eleanor said.

Asra laughed. “Spoken like a true southerner. And of course, these.” 

He tucked a bottle of beer between her legs, then tore a piece of bread for himself. It was a heaty loaf, loaded with nuts and dried fruits. 

“My favorite foods, my favorite drink, and my favorite person,” Eleanor said, passing him a now sizzling meat-on-a-stick. “No better way to spend a night.”

They ate quietly for a while, enjoying the cool breeze and each other's company. Asra supposed that now was his chance.

“I miss you,” Eleanor said, just as Asra opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really grateful.”

“You let me live in your house, for one,” Asra said.

Eleanor laughed. “It’s our house.”

“And you take me on so many adventures.”

“That’s my pleasure.”

“Like the cave. Remember when you brought me to the cave?”

Eleanor smiled at the memory. “Your magic was beautiful. So much purple and blue, like how the stars look when you’re far from the city. I didn’t know magic could be so healing.”

Asra shrugged. The night hid his blush. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

“But seriously, I’m really grateful that you’re so flexible. I really think I’m meant to be working at the palace. Everytime I help someone, make some breakthrough in the medicine, it makes me feel lighter. I’m only here now because you’re in my life.”

Asra’s heart sank. She was so enthusiastic about her work. How could he ever ask her to run away with him, to choose him over finally paying her penance? He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. At least, not now. There was still time.

Asra, finished eating, wrapped his arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. She leaned against him and gave a contented sigh, nuzzling against his neck. The fly-away hairs on her head tickled his cheek.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” he said.

“Me too.”

He kissed the top of her head. She talked about fate a lot, but fate be damned. He would figure out something; anything. He always did.


	9. Love-Hate Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El meets Lucio in the library. Things get out of control.

Eleanor sat on the desk before Julian while he was in his stiff-backed chair, pouring over the notes she’d given him. Candlelight flickered against his face, flattering his fair skin and dark circles.

“This is promising,” he said. “Really promising.”

“You think so? It didn’t help everyone.”

“Nearly everyone, though,” Julian said. “It’s to be expected that it wouldn’t affect southern woman as much, since it is made with their blood. It doesn’t look like there's any change in effectiveness beyond the triple dose or the 25 mL. Beyond forty, it begins making people worse.”

“I saw that too,” Eleanor replied. “The more frequent dose makes sense, since the body can metabolize it faster.”

“Do you think it needs more work?”

“There’s no reason why we can’t start giving it out now while I tweak the formula. I have a couple ideas.”

“It seems we’re looking at 25 ml, three times a day.”

“For the average adult.”

“Of course, it should be adjusted by body weight.”

“I’ll talk to Lucio and Nadia about handing out the version we have.”

“I heard you two had a tussle yesterday.” He raised an eyebrow, inquisitive.

“We did,” she said, then paused for moment. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“Swear you won’t tell anyone, especially Asra.”

“I swear it.”

Eleanor’s arms were crossed. She looked at the ground and tapped her foot. “I feel more for Lucio then I thought I did. When I saw him, it was like everything came back.”

“Do you still love him?”

She shook her head. “I love my memory of him. God knows he’s still insanely attractive.”

“Ew. He’s so much older than you.”

“Julian, you and I are the same age.”

“Oh yeah. You never told me why you’re still so young.” He leaned forward eagerly.

“There’s not much to say, really. I stopped aging about a year after I left him.”

“You aren’t going to tell me why?”

“No.”

He slumped back in his seat and blew some hair out of his face.

There was knock on the door. Julian bid them entry. Lucio had summoned Eleanor. 

“I’ll be at the clinic later, if you want to join,” he told her. He hoped she would. Her company made the experience a little less miserable.

Eleanor nodded. “I probably will.”

Lucio had spent more time that he’d like to admit contemplating where he wanted Eleanor to meet him. He’d considered the menagerie, but that was often full of visitors. He’d thought of his private quarters, but that wasn’t grand enough. He finally settled on the library, which resided in the tallest tower. Only himself, Nadia, and Julian were permitted entry without special supervision. 

Most of the volumes were in Vesuvian, and there were a few in languages he couldn’t speak, chosen by Nadia. He did have a sizable collection of books in Suomean, his native language, though he’d never cared much for reading. Eleanor had always loved books and treated them with reverence and fascination, despite that she couldn’t read them. He wondered if she’d ever learned how.

The complex locks clicked, and a servant opened the door. “What is it?” Eleanor asked as she entered. The door closed behind her, leaving them alone. 

“Do I need a reason to speak to you?” Lucio asked. He was standing by the far window. The stained glass cast colors on his skin.

Eleanor crossed the room. Her flared hips swayed hypnotically as she walked. “We’re not on speaking terms, so, yes,” she said. As she spoke her eyes roamed the dark, wooden shelves.

“Have you been in here yet?” Lucio asked.

She stood a few feet away from him and shook her head.

“What do you think?” He asked.

Eleanor twisted as she cast her eyes around the massive library. Lucio knew it was the biggest she’d ever seen, and probably the most beautiful. It was several times taller than a normal room, with balconies and ladders to access the highest volumes. The books themselves were in every shape and size. Where there was wall space there were exquisite maps, painted with gold and silver. The glass ceiling revealed the heavens above. The sunset sky was pink and orange.

She touched the globe on the desk and spun it, then placed her finger on Vesuvia. “It’s great,” she admitted, not looking at him.

“Just great?” Lucio prodded.

She looked up, and he saw that her eyes glittered. There was no hiding her awe; not from him. “It’s absolutely amazing.”

He was smug as looked through the window, standing at parade rest. “I told the guards to let you have access. You can use the books for research.” He glanced at her, letting his eyes trail up her hourglass shape. “Or for pleasure.”

“Who said I know how to read?”

“All these years, and you never bothered to learn?”

“Of course I did. Vesuvian and Suomean.”

He didn’t say it, but he was proud. Now she could finally use the books she always treasured.

“You still wear that necklace I gave you,” he said.

She put her hand over the garnet, as if she could make it disappear. “To remember my mercenary days by.”

“And you cut off all your hair.”

“It’s practical this way, but I do miss it.”

She was coming closer to him, not really of her own volition. When she was close enough, he gingerly cupped her face. She closed her eyes and let him, but made no move to return the gesture. She was warm to the touch. 

“I can’t believe you found the fountain of youth and didn’t share,” he said, voice soft and bitter. “You were already so young. It’s not fair.”

“It’s a curse, Luce,” she replied. “I’d give it to you if I could.”

He drew his hand back, turning away again. He felt anger starting to boil inside of him. It really wasn’t fair.

“Are you going to build the Lazaret?” she asked.

“I already built you this entire damn palace,” he snapped. 

She stepped away, voice beginning to rise. “It’s your palace.”

Lucio threw his arms open. “Look around you! I built you the library, I built you the zoo, I even built a nursery! We were gonna make the family that we never had! You said you’d come back, but you never did!” He pushed her finger into her chest, accusing.

She shoved his hand away. Her voice wobbled. “I said I might, and that was before everything that happened.”

“It was you and me, Ellie, you and me against the world!” He was shouting now.

“Was I supposed to stand around and watch you you die without me?” She matched his volume. Her fists were clenched.

“You couldn’t wait to shack up with someone else,” he accused. “Now you’re running around with that runt!”

“He’s got nothing to do with it!” Lucio could feel the heat coming from her. Her hair was starting to wave on it’s own.

“He’s got everything to do with it! You said you loved me-”

“I did!”

“-and I’ll never love anyone else, because you ruined me! You ruined me!”

“I was twenty, you should’ve known better!”

“You knew what you were getting into! You made the first move!”

She was getting closer and closer. “You took advantage of me!”

“You’re the bad guy here, don’t try to spin it!”

“I said I’m sorry! I hurt just as much as you!” They were screaming in each others faces. She felt like a furnace.

“That’s not true and you know it!” Lucio stomped his feet. “Because you moved on, and I still love you!”

“No you don’t-”

“I always will.” Their chests were touching.

“You love your memory of me-”

“Stop telling me what I feel you witch!”

“You’re even stupider than I thought if-” he cut her off when he seized her, and crushed his mouth against hers.

She threw her arms around him, pressed her body desperately against his. He pushed her against the window as her fingers tangled though his hair, pulling enough to make his scalp hurt. His hands were all over her. She raised one legs and rested it against his hip. They were ravenous.

Her skin was almost hot enough to burn. He shoved his hand up her tunic, sank his fingers into her flesh. She ripped his shirt open and he bit the tender skin above her breasts. His hips grinded against hers.

She felt even better than he remembered. Her smell was as intoxicating as ever, and her lips were deliciously soft. He ran his mouth along her neck, letting his teeth graze the delicate skin. He shoved his hand down the front of her pants and curled his fingers against her sex. She whimpered. It was his favorite sound. He wondered if the magician knew how to make her scream.

When the cold metal of his prosthetic arm touched her bare waist, she snapped back into reality and shoved him away. Lucio wiped his mouth, smug. He felt more alive than he had in years.

She was breathless and her face was pink with arousal. She put her hands against the cool glass, as if it would bring her down. “That was a mistake,” she said. Her voice was a low rumble. 

“It didn’t feel like a mistake,” he replied, then tilted his head. “You might want to cover that up.”

She clapped her hand over the hickey forming on her neck. “You’re disgusting,” she snarled.

“I’ll build the Lazaret,” Lucio said, rebuttoning his shirt, “if only so you’ll leave me alone.”

“Was that your plan? To scare me away from you?”

“Is that what happened?”

“I’m not scared of anything.”

“But you are scared of hurting that magician,” Lucio said. He regarded her coldly. “He doesn’t know who you are, but I do.”

She said nothing, cutting into him with eyes like ice. He came closer to her again. “You’re a monster, but I still love you for it. Do you think he would if he knew?”

She took her hand away from her neck, and the mark was healed. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” he said. She pushed past him, heading for the door.

It slammed behind her. Lucio knew there was no going back to how it used to be. He knew he was doomed to ache forever. He hated her for leaving, but he still longed for her, which made him hate her even more. 

But damn, if he didn’t miss fucking her.


	10. The Threads of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra makes one last bid to save Eleanor from her fate.

Asra snuck quietly into the palace with the help of a simple stealth spell. It was in the earliest hours of the morning, and the cargo ship was leaving for Prakra soon. He and Eleanor were bonded enough that he could find her aura anywhere, much like a dog sniffing a trail. 

Faust was with him, as she almost always was. He could feel her cool body moving against his torso, and the agitated flicker of her tail. She was channeling Asra’s anxiety. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered, both to the snake and himself. 

The palace halls were dark and empty. He followed his instincts through the twists and turns, occasionally dipping into a closet or hallway to avoid a passing guard. When he found the door Eleanor was sleeping behind, he hesitated, hand resting on the handle.

Wouldn’t it be selfish of him to ask her to come? To ask her to choose him, and prolong her suffering? Asra wasn’t immortal. Even if she did agree to come, he would eventually leave her for whatever world comes next. They’d have a few decades of happiness, but at what cost?

He had consulted the cards many times, but their answers never changed. Death always appeared. Death was usually meant as a symbol of progression and change, but Asra sensed that it’s meaning was more literal. It might be in ten years, or it might be tomorrow. Death was coming for El if she stayed in Vesuvia.

Faust slid down Asra’s arm and gave him a poignant look. She was urging him to try, if only for his own conscience. He opened the door and entered Eleanor’s room.

Eleanor slept on her stomach, arms crossed beneath her pillow. The blankets were pushed down to her waist, revealing the graceful curve of her spine and the bulky muscle in her shoulders. He sat on the edge of her bed and touched her back. “El, wake up,” he said.

Eleanor’s eyes flew open. She tackled him to the ground, knife pressed to his neck, teeth bared like an animal. She recognized Asra and scrambled back. “I am so sorry,” she said. Her eyes were wide, like she’d scared herself.

“Do you always sleep with a knife?”

“Only if I’m sleeping in strange places.”

They both stood. Asra took her hand and gave her a quick kiss. “Get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Right now?”

“Now.”

“Should I bring my staff?”

“Of course.”

Eleanor wasn’t embarrassed to change in front of Asra. Once she pulled her boots on, they set out, Asra leading her by the hand.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as they passed the castle’s outer gate.

“You’ll see,” he said. 

Eleanor followed him through the dark streets. She was on high-alert, checking behind them, noting the handfuls of people doing early-morning errands. When they passed through the market, they could smell the baker’s ovens warming up. Asra wasn’t sure if he and Eleanor would ever eat there again; not together, at least.

They stopped at the docks. The crew was the cargo ship was busy preparing to sail. The voices of the sailors drifted down to the magicians. Torchlight rippled on the water of the bay. Asra had the tickets in his pocket.

“Why did you bring me here?” Eleanor asked. He could tell from her tone that she had guessed what was going on.

“El,” he said, placing his hands on both of her arms. “I’m scared of the plague. I’m scared of losing you to the plague. I know you love your shop, I do too, but we can build another one.”

“Asra,” she sighed, looking on him with sad eyes. “Don’t.”

He couldn’t stop himself. “Come away with me. Please.”

Eleanor stepped away from him, shaking her head. “How can you ask me that?”

“How can I not? Ellie, I talked to the arcana. You’ll die if you stay here.”

“If that’s true, then that’s true,” she replied. “I’m not leaving.”

Asra was desperate. He couldn’t lose her. “You’d come with me if you love me!”

“Don’t you dare say that,” she growled, brows furrowed with anger. “You’ve always been selfish-”

“Selfish!” He was aghast.

“-but this is a new low.”

He pulled on his own hair. “How can I be selfish if I’m trying to save your life?”

“Because my being here could save hundreds! Thousands, even! You just want me to come with you so we can keep pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

“So stay here and die then! See if I care!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d gone too far. Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, like she couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She open her eyes and looked up, blinking furiously. She was trying not to cry. “It’s already done.”

“El-” he began, reaching for her.

“It’s done!” she snapped, setting her fierce gaze on him. “Just go!”

Asra was frightened. She’d never looked at him like that before. He started to leave, but only made it halfway down the dock before he stopped. He heard her sniffle from behind him.

He ran back to her. “El, I’m sorry, you’re right.”

She wouldn’t look at him. He took her shoulders. “You’re always right. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I should’ve have said all that.”

Eleanor met his gaze. She seemed exhausted. “You’re just scared,” she said. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“I shouldn’t have called you selfish. You’re not.”

He took her hand. “We’ll both stay, together.”

“No, Asra-”

“I just want to be with you. I’ll do anything you want.”

“I want you to be happy,” she said, “and I can’t give you that. This day was always meant to come. I’m the selfish one. I knew it couldn’t last, but I stayed anyways.”

“Did you always know?”

She nodded. “I think towards the end, you did too.”

“So it meant nothing?”

“Gods no. I want to spend my entire life with you, but I don’t really have a life.” 

He swallowed and looked away. She must’ve thought he was a coward. She took his face in her hands, gently turning him back to her. “I have this dream of growing old with you,” she said.

“That’s a beautiful dream,” he said, placing his hand over hers. 

“But that’s all it is. A dream.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he went on. “I don’t know how to live without you.”

“We have a bad habit of keeping things from each other.” She lowered their joined hands. “I want you to be safe. I’d save the the entire world, just for you.” She kissed his hand. “We always said the threads of fate brought us together. Now they’re guiding us apart.”

Eleanor pulled Asra against her chest, and he buried his face in her shoulder. He felt her pet his hair. Even now, he was soothed by her touch.

“Listen to me,” she said with a thick voice. “The years I spent with you were the happiest of my life. You were kind and patient with me even though I didn’t deserve it. Because of you, I know that there’s good in the world.”

She broke away from him, stooping to put herself in his lowered gaze. “This is what I’m meant to do. You are meant to live.”

Dawn was breaking. The ship was about to leave.

Asra felt like a petulant child. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he knew how it had to be. “I love you,” he told her. “I’ll always love you.”

He wrapped her arms around her, and they held each other tight. Eleanor shook with a sob; the first time he’d seen her cry when she was awake. She kissed the side of his head. “I love you too. Now go. Live.”

Asra gave her one last, sweet kiss. Their lips were salty with tears. He didn’t know how he could go on knowing he’d never wake up beside her. 

They broke apart, and she watched him go down the dock. He looked back at her several times. His hair colored yellow by the sunrise. Eleanor had already stopped crying, stoic to the very end. He leaked all the way up to to the ship.

The magician stood on the deck as the ship raised it’s anchor. The white sails unfurled and filled with the morning wind. The lovers both watched while the other shrank, smaller and smaller, until they disappeared. Asra couldn’t shake what he’d said to her. He felt like his stomach was eating itself.

Asra would come back someday, of course, but not until he could face Eleanor again. Poor Muriel; Asra hadn’t even given him a proper goodbye. He supposed he would have to write to him.

He looked out over the glittering sea, shining in the early sun. Faust emerged from his shirt and settled over his shoulders, pale scales gleaming like the waves below. Her weight was comforting.

“Well Faust,” Asra began, wiping the last tear from his face. “It’s just you and me again.”


End file.
